


This Friday Night

by Zafra



Series: Mrs. Amicitia [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Caring Gladiolus Amicitia, Established Relationship, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 14:37:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14620779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zafra/pseuds/Zafra
Summary: You and Gladio are both looking forward to this weekend off.





	This Friday Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for anyone else who doesn't see themselves in reader insert fics that have you kicking ass and wearing heels. :) A huge thanks to Jason (who isn't on AO3) and [Delaya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delaya/pseuds/Delaya) for Beta duties and general hand-holding. This is my first story of this nature. Hope you enjoy!

The well-worn cover of the book is familiar to you, as is the calloused hand holding it. No matter how many times Gladio reads his favorite books, he always gets lost in them, like it’s the first time.

“Bad day?” You ask, placing your purse on the hook and sitting across from him. That’s one reason he’ll pick the older ones up. The red spine is cracked and the letters nearly worn off with age, but they remind him of reading them the first time. When things were brighter. Before the long darkness.

“Hmm,” is his grunted reply to you, eyes roving over the pages, revisiting passages he’s probably memorized and could recite to you once the book has faded from existence.  
You are still holding the bag from the market, and you run your fingers down his shoulder and bicep lightly as you stand slowly and move toward the kitchen. You had already planned to make one of his favorites, something Ignis shared with you on a visit. That was longer ago than either of you care to mention, but thinking about his frustration as you pointedly used the knife clumsily so he could hear you ‘butchering’ the potatoes and the huffing he did while you flicked water at him brings a genuine smile to your face. You really should call him since Gladio seems to be stubborn about it. There is no need to be hesitant in your preparations; it’s been awhile but this is not the kind of recipe you simply forget. The motions of chopping, the sizzle of the pan - these serve to soothe you, as Gladio’s book is soothing him in the other room. Hopefully, you will both enjoy dinner and a free evening. 

Warm hands are suddenly placed on your shoulders, carefully, so not to disrupt your knife-wielding. You smile, turning your head to look at him and receive a soft kiss for your distraction. “You haven’t made this in awhile.”  
You feel the breath right by your ear and you can’t help the shiver. Astrals, this man will never stop making you want him. “Thought it might be a good time,” you reply, not wanting to say anything outright. You learned in the beginning of your relationship how difficult a subject the past can be. Your answer is another kiss, slow and pressing to your temple, then one right by your ear. “Do you want me to finish?” You chide, bumping your ass back, smiling again as he dodges and laughs.  
“Of course, I’ll stop distractin’ ya.”  
“Only until I’m done with the dangerous cutlery!” You call after him, earning a “deal,” in response that floats toward you from back in the living room. There is not much left to do once the ingredients start making their way to the pots and pans in proper order. Familiar, warming scents rise up with the steam, filling you with memories. This is not the first time you’ve made a dish like this alone so the fact that others are not there sharing your apartment-sized kitchen space is not as jarring as it was the first time. The fond memories of teasing Ignis or throwing a towel over Prompto’s camera as he tries to capture you ‘in the moment’ - which meant slightly sweaty from the malfunctioning air that week and flour covering large sections of your front - those come to you and make you smile as you plate the meal and prepare to bring it to the small table. 

“Dinner’s ready,” you announce, as if the aroma alone wouldn’t have Gladio’s attention. Sure enough, he is placing the bookmark in between pages and he carefully places it down on the coffee table before making his way the short distance toward you.  
“Smells amazing, babe.”  
“Let’s hope it tastes equally so,” you reply. You can’t help being nervous. These dishes are special. After you place the food down, you feel him take your hand, raising it up and kissing your knuckles.  
“It always does,” the tone of his voice resonates his understanding of how nervous you are, and you smile.  
“Then let’s not wait,” you pull your hand back, taking a seat and digging in. It definitely is one of the better times and you both share a smile and nod to acknowledge your appreciation.  
You eat in comfortable silence, enjoying the food and lost in your own individual thoughts. As it wraps up, he reaches for your empty plate and quells your upcoming protest with a look. “The cook doesn’t clean up. Remember?”  
You do remember, though many times it is a rule that the real world doesn’t allow for. Late patrols, quelling bar fights - who knew sunshine and peace would lead to such ridiculous use of the Crownsguard? You knew, of course, in the back of your mind. The romance of winning the long war, the rag-tag heroes who helped the Chosen King bring back the sun - they were part of a slice in time. That slice was gone, now. Replaced with disputes over districts, over rights to previously-held Niffelheim territories. Politically motivated posturing by all manner of nobility and anyone who thought they did anything remotely worth mentioning during the darkness. You are there in the thick of it, working in the New Citadel to take meeting notes, mediate small disputes and file appeals. The Lucian Civil Claims Division was never a dull place. 

The first couple years even saw their share of fisticuffs right there, sometimes in front of your desk. Gladiolus was never happy about that, but you thank the Astrals for them because that's how you two met. Your knight in a long, dark black coat, gruffly escorting some poor refugee out the door after he broke some equally poor man's nose. “You’re a kind man, Gladiolus Amicitia,” you murmur and he looks at you with fond confusion as he finishes gathering the assorted plates, balancing the cutlery on the top and both of you surely hope it makes it to the sink before falling. As you slowly rise from your seat to follow, unable to relinquish the duty entirely, you continue to remember how he looked in those first weeks you saw him. The sad eyes behind the gruff exterior. The eyes are the windows to the soul you had always heard and Gladio, proved that saying. The hurt you could see at the struggles so obvious around everyone - it drew you to ask him for a coffee. You didn’t know what else to say, but he graciously didn’t tell you until several weeks, and dates, later he didn’t really like the stuff. ‘That’s Iggy’s thing,’ he said. 

“Go, relax,” he halfheartedly flicks the towel at you before swinging it over his shoulder and turning on the tap to get the water hot.  
“I think I’ve forgotten how to do that,” you chuckle but it doesn’t cover the seriousness in your tone. You are tired, and he can tell. But you know he’s tired, too. You see him turn just before he puts his arms around you and you sink into his embrace. You feel his lips on your head, kissing your hair and you sigh.  
“Gimme a few. I’ll meet you on the couch.”  
You nod, pecking him on the chest quickly as you both turn away to your tasks. Him to wash the dishes and you to sit down and try to get your thoughts back to something that doesn’t resemble work and conflict..  
Instead of walking all the way back, not that it’s a large distance, you turn and simply watch. He is clad in his typical black tank top and sweats, well-defined muscles rolling beneath the skin as he goes about scrubbing and rinsing. He really is a beautiful man, even in this most unattractive of situations. You could stand there and keep watching him as he methodically cleans each plate, pan and utensil, but you know that sitting down and remembering how to relax and let someone else take care of things is exactly what you need. And you trust the person in the kitchen right now, with dishes and your life. Not even just in the sense of physically protecting you. You know he would, if it came to that. But you trust him far more than simply protecting your body. You trust him with your heart. Your thoughts and dreams. And you, in turn, are trusted with his. It’s a kind of intimacy borne out of time and familiarity and you wouldn’t trade it for anything. The sounds of the water running cease, followed by a few more clinking sounds as dishes are placed to dry.  
“Almost done,” you hear him call and you smile.  
“Good, I’m getting lonely out here.” Sitting down on the couch, you realize it’s true as you listen to the soft sounds of feet hitting the tile, a drawer opening ; you grow suddenly impatient for his presence. It’s a giddy feeling, to be transported into this mental space from the morose one you had just been lost in for most of the day.  
“I wouldn’t want to keep my lady waiting.”  
You smile at his confident walk, tempered only by his slight limp only you notice. He is favoring his left knee, again. He sits down heavily next to you, not trying to hide his exhaustion.  
“We have the whole weekend, can you believe it?” You muse aloud, reminding yourself that yes, you have this man beside you to yourself for a whole three nights and two days worth of time without interruptions. Well, you don’t want to dwell on any reason you could be interrupted.  
“We deserve it,” he muses as he puts his legs across your lap and your fingers find his knee and start to massage the area without him even asking.  
“We do,” you respond lowly, concentrating on the impromptu massage you are giving.  
“Made any plans?”  
You look up at him, then, making sure you haven’t missed anything. Given your time together you figure you know him pretty well but there’s always a chance to be surprised. “Not that involve leaving this place,” you smile.  
Gladio smiles in return, lying back and relaxing against the couch arm as best his six-foot-plus frame can. “Good. Was afraid you might want to go touring somewhere. Camp.”  
You splutter a bit with the word “Camp?! Gladiolus, I am not twenty anymore. The last thing I want to do is get a terrible night’s sleep with rocks digging into my body and a thin sleeping bag the only thing keeping bugs off me.” His laughter is rich and warm, making your smile genuine.  
“Woman, I don’t want nothin’ crawling on me, either. I’m over that whole thing.”  
“Good,” you reply, exhaling to keep from continuing any laughter and resuming your ministrations. “Want to watch TV?” There were a good number of shows being produced, even with the conditions still being what they were. Escapism paid as well as always, it seemed. You didn’t particularly love the baser offerings, but there were a few shows you both enjoyed together.  
“Nope,” is the succinct reply. You continue giving your massage, mindful that it must be bothering him more than he’s let on if he’s letting you continue without protest.  
“Okay,” you quietly respond. The silence is comforting, if not jarring after the long days and weeks of noise you are accustomed to at work.  
“Did you wanna?”  
You smile slightly because that’s so typical. “No love, I just want to be with you.” You aren’t just saying it and you both know it. Your time together lately has been reduced to long kisses in-between shifts or fumbling attentions before you both collapse, exhausted.  
“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” is the reply, the timbre dropping an octave as he relaxes more under your touch.  
“Except to sleep,” you chide half-heartedly, moving your fingers down to massage a very tight calf.  
“Not plannin’ on it,” he responds, eyes still shut but he reaches a hand down from where it was cradling his head and you feel fingers on your thigh. Without word, you shift closer, bringing his knee closer as well.  
“You planned that,” you accuse in jest.  
“Don’t seem opposed to the idea.” He is openly flirting with you now and you feel your body heat up in reaction to his words.  
“I’m never opposed to you touching me, love.” He rewards your boldness by reaching down and squeezing the side of your ass he can reach in this position. It’s more like a pinch but you aren’t complaining.  
“Is your knee feeling better?” He nods simply in return, again squeezing what of you he can reach and gingerly moving his feet back down and rising to sit.  
“Thanks,” he says simply, pulling you gently to encourage you to climb onto his lap which you do, willingly.  
“Anytime, handsome,” you smile and caress his cheek, feeling the recently-trimmed beard that is a permanent fixture of his features. His answer is to lean the scant distance in and kiss you. Soft at first, just lips remembering what it feels like to do this. Something so simple, yet denied to both of you most of the time. The unhurried slowness of exploring each other’s lips is heaven as your hand drops down to his neck and he wraps his strong arms around your waist to pull you further in and deepen the kiss. This is what you have been wanting since you walked through the door, groceries in hand. There is no rush, no place either of you have to be until Monday. A whole, proper weekend ahead of you and yet you can’t get enough of the man beneath you. You bring your hand from his neck down to his chest, your other hand joining as you caress over well-defined pecs, slipping down to get underneath the cotton and feel bare skin. You mutually break the kiss, breath coming harder than it was a few moments ago.  
“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures, sensing your need.  
“I miss you,” is all you say as you push up his top and he helps by raising his arms so you can work it off.  
“You’re always here,” he says, taking your hand and placing it over his heart. You love that this intimidating specimen of a man is such a romantic.  
“Same,” you mimic his action with his hand, leaning back in to capture his lips. It’s sappy and reminiscent of your early days. You wouldn’t trade it for all of Eos. He slides his hands back around you and the kiss deepens again, both of you feeling the desire. He slides one hand back around, working the buttons on your shirt open slowly. You meant to change after work but didn’t bother, content instead to get dinner fixed and the evening started.  
You break the kiss, leaning back slightly and taking over to get your shirt off as quickly as possible. He leaves it to you, instead peppering your face, neck and shoulders with kisses, not trying but distracting you from your task nonetheless. “Gladio,” you gasp and feel him smile against your skin, only letting up his assault long enough to allow you to get the shirt down and off, tossing it to the floor. No sooner are your arms free, his hands are at your back, deftly unhooking your bra and you shrug it off quickly, sending it in the general direction of your shirt. You can’t help but feel better, slowly moving even closer, shifting until you can feel the hardness in his pants. His lips are back on yours now, your tongues and hands exploring. Now that they are free, his hands come up to cup your breasts, rolling them in his large hands and drawing a moan from you before running his hands down your sides and grabbing fistfuls of your ass. 

“Bed,” you mutter against his lips between kisses and he responds by shifting his weight and you grab onto his neck, knowing what’s coming before he even lifts you up. Someday, he won’t be able to do that anymore but you aren’t going to think about that right now. You break the kiss to suck and nibble on his neck and clavicle as he swiftly walks you into the bedroom. There is only a slight stumble as he deposits you on the bed, devouring your mouth once again and dropping his hands to work on getting your pants off. You watch him as he stares at the button and zipper, lost in a haze of arousal and fumbling with even the simplest of tasks. It fans your own arousal, knowing you are the cause of it. As the zipper opens, you wriggle your ass, attempting to help him remove them so you can return the favor. You know what waits for you and your mouth waters at the thought of getting your lips around that hard cock. He gets your slacks around your knees and you nearly collide as both of you reach for them.

“I got this,” he says, leaning down to pull the garment off your legs, tossing them across the room to land where they will. You have two days to worry about where they’ve landed.  
“Then I’ve got this,” you counter, placing your hands in the waistband of his sweats and pulling down without preamble.  
“Eager much,” he teases, his pupils darkening with lust as you slide off the bed and follow the pants down his legs, helping him lift each foot as you slip them off.  
“I’m always eager for you, baby,” you reply without shyness, reaching up to grab his erect cock as you settle on your knees.  
“Fuck,” is his coherent reply as you take the tip in your mouth and lap at the underside with your tongue. You know exactly what to do to drive him insane but you don’t want this to end so soon. Not when you have time. You keep your thrusts shallow, covering but not sucking, teasing with your tongue. He gives you a look and you smile as you stop, simply content to stroke him slowly. “You’re not usually a tease,” he complains.  
“We have three days,” you retort, but you resume your activity with reaffirmed interest. Soon he is breathing harder and you sense his arousal growing. You stop with a final lick and pull yourself up. “We need a softer rug,” you grumble and earn a small laugh.  
You turn and crawl onto the bed, wiggling your ass a little for show and just when you attempt to turn over, you feel strong hands grab your waist, keeping you in place. You shiver a bit as you can feel the side of the bed dip and lips on your lower back. “Scoot up,” he says, voice low and you don’t hesitate, moving until you are facing the headboard, feeling him climb behind you. A slow lick up your ass cheek draws out a pleased sound and you feel your body respond in anticipation. Strong hands grab you as his lips and tongue continue where he left off, slowly trailing down over your hips, up your spine and back down, biting slightly on your tailbone and flicking his tongue out to lick soft skin and your breath hitches. You raise up higher, pushing your pussy towards him, intent clear. He takes the hint, barely, teasing you with light licks and kisses, hands still firmly but gently on your waist. You whine his name, not caring anymore about taking your time. It’s been way to long since you’ve been able to be with him this way and he can tell by how wet you already are. Suddenly the hands are gone and you have just a few second to process what is happening before you are gently flipped over. He guides your knees up and you don’t hesitate to spread yourself as he takes a pert nipple in his mouth and sucks. Both get attention until you grab onto his hair in an obvious hint. “Enough teasing, Gladiolus,” you admonish but the heat isn’t there.  
“I thought we have time,” he throws your words back at you and you tighten the grip, causing him to groan. You can feel the callouses from training as he runs his hands up and down your inner thighs, coming so close, but not close enough, to where you want them. His lips trace over your abdomen, light but just firm enough not to tickle and it’s maddening. You should know by now how he works, his methods of distraction, but it’s been awhile and you gasp in pleasure as a thumb rubs your clit slowly, fingers teasing at your entrance. You move your hips, trying to get more pressure; for Gladio to just enter you already. You know you have more time, but that just means you can do it again. Tonight maybe, tomorrow, the next day. You feel a thick finger slip in, followed by another and you let out a pleased moan.  
“Yeah, baby,” he encourages you and you gently thrust your hips again, breathing out his name as you work yourself on his hand.  
“Gladio,” you know he loves hearing you say his name, hearing how he’s making you feel. Vulnerable. Exposed, but only for him. He rewards you by moving his lips down slowly, driving up your anticipation to feel him kiss you where only he is allowed. You’re slick and ready for him to fuck you but he wants to get a little more teasing in first, it seems. His fingers continue to lazily move as he licks and sucks at your clit making you gasp and thrust your hips more urgently. “Fuck me,” you hear the pleading edge to your command but you really don’t care. He responds by sucking a bit harder before he removes his fingers suddenly and you moan at the empty feeling until his tongue replaces them. It can’t go as far but it never fails to get you just that much more excited.  
“Yes,” you cry out, all pretense of being in control of this gone. You never were and you just want him to show you that. You writhe urgently, hands fisted in the covers next to you. You can’t wait until it’s possible to once again run your fingers through his hair and scrape your nails down his back. When it’s less urgent you like to trace the lines of his large tattoo but that’s not going to happen this time. “I want your cock inside me,” you know you’re practically begging and needy but it’s him so it doesn’t matter. He’s clearly affected by all this as well and swiftly he pulls back and pushes himself up so he’s face to face with you. You reach for that head of hair you’ve been craving to touch, bringing him down for a kiss. It’s sloppy and quick but you love it. He looks at you like he always does at this moment - like he’s still afraid after years of being together you’re going to back out. Like he’s being given a gift in being able to be with you so intimately. You revel in how he envelopes you completely yet you feel safe in his arms. “Fuck me, Gladiolus,” your voice is soft and he leans in again, the kiss softer and sweeter. That distraction thing, again, you realize as his cock enters you. You grab his shoulders, letting go of his hair for now. He’s gentle as always and you resign yourself to the pace he’s setting.  
“I love you,” he says as he looks at you and you smile.  
“I love you, too,” is your soft reply. “Now get moving.” You punctuate your desire with a roll of your hips and he chuckles, taking the hint and moving faster. You can’t stop the litany of curses and calls to the Astrals that come out of your mouth as his hands grab your hips and he fucks you mercilessly. You know you will feel it tomorrow but you don’t have to go anywhere and staying in bed all day because you’ve been fucked senseless is the best vacation you can think of. One of his hands lets go, his thumb once again rubbing you and giving the friction your body is craving. You go stiff as you cry out his name, your orgasm overwhelming you. He doesn’t let up in his pace, finding your lips again and making grunting noises as he plants sloppy kisses on your mouth and chin in between thrusts.  
“I’m close,” he gasps and you moan at the knowledge of how it feels to have him like this, open and wanting and all yours. Another small orgasm overtakes you and that sets him over the edge, thrusts slowing as he comes down from his own high. You bury your face in his neck as he relaxes into your hold, neither of you wanting to move anytime soon. Your breath steadies out eventually and you can feel the urgency of cleaning up. You should probably change the sheets, too.  
“Off,” you mumble and he acquiesces with a light kiss to your nose.  
“Be right back,” he mumbles as he heads slowly off toward the bathroom for a washcloth. At least you hope so. You hear him coming back and your brain is already being pulled-out of it’s haze to contemplate which sheets you want to use and if you should change the pillowcases too.  
“Stop thinking,” he smiles at you, dragging the washcloth gently over your skin.  
“Let’s get this bed changed real quick and I’ll stop. Promise.”  
It goes quickly and you are looking forward to climbing in between clean sheets as you pull on your pjs and brush your teeth. Gladio, as usual, is way ahead of you, teeth brushed and clad in a pair of boxers.You finish up your routine quickly, wanting to get back to enjoying the quiet this time off is affording you. As you slip under the covers, you are pulled toward the warm body of your lover. You normally don’t take time to just be and it’s nice to not have to speak. You’re half on top of him; you can hear his heartbeat beneath you, steady and strong. You know sleep is not far off and you place light kisses to the exposed chest beneath you, your way of saying goodnight. Gladio tightens his arms around you slightly in response, shifting to get a bit more comfortable. Tomorrow you have no idea what you’re going to do and that’s just fine.  
You’ll be doing it together.


End file.
